


matcha and everything in between

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Baking, Birthday Cake, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Looks like the birthday boy is happy this mornin’.”Unfazed by Osamu’s gruff voice, he gently set the sifter aside, took the whisk, and mixed all the dry ingredients together. “I don’ see any reason as to be in a sulky mood when it’s such a good day,” replied Shinsuke.It’s Kita’s special day and that morning, they were having matcha cake.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	matcha and everything in between

**Author's Note:**

> Everybody, you are obligated to greet Kita Shinsuke a blessed happy birthday. Although, it seems as if he was the one who blessed us and not the other way around. 
> 
> I hope that you find the peace of mind you’ve been looking for as Kita did in this fic. I’m still looking for mine, but eventually, we’ll find it. Like most things in life.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen’s open window, and so did the morning breeze that gently rustled the leaves of the cedar tree by the garden. The scent of newly lit incense hung in air; Shinsuke had finished his morning prayer. And though he did not share the spiritual intimacy his grandmother had, he had knelt in front of the  _ butsudan _ , eyes closed and heart open, expressed his gratitude another year added to his lifetime, and wished his grandmother well — wherever she was. 

Mornings were still and slow moments that Shinsuke reveled in. His found routines became like clockwork, even when he and Osamu had moved in together. 

Water replenished in flower vases. Incense wafted in the air. A cup of brewed coffee for Osamu; matcha tea for Shinsuke. Windows pushed wide open. A chin rested on one’s shoulder. Lips pressed together in a hasty kiss. Shinsuke was familiar with all these like the back of his hand. Or Osamu’s clean, minty scent. Or how their hands fit together — puzzle pieces that fit perfectly. 

A fond smile graced Shinsuke’s lips, as he busied himself with sifting the flour, baking soda, and matcha powder into a large, ceramic bowl. 

“Looks like the birthday boy is happy this mornin’.” 

Unfazed by Osamu’s gruff voice, he gently set the sifter aside, took the whisk, and mixed all the dry ingredients together. “I don’ see any reason as to be in a sulky mood when it’s such a good day,” replied Shinsuke. 

Osamu made his way to the kitchen, his feet padding on the  _ tatami _ mat. Instinctively, Shinsuke raised his arms, now reaching for another bowl and egg carton. Osamu’s strong arms were wrapped around the other’s waist, and his head buried in the crook of Shinsuke’s neck. Osamu breathed in deep and exhaled.

“Do you want to help?” There came no reply, so Shinsuke jerked his shoulder and woke the half-asleep Osamu. “Wash your face and brush your teeth.  _ Then _ , you can help me,” he said. 

Osamu lingered beside Shinsuke for a few seconds before bobbing his head. “Okay,” was all he said and off the bathroom he trudged, leaving Shinsuke to the silence of the kitchen. 

By the time that Osamu, who had some life to him but still was groggy, returned, the egg yolks, butter, and sugar had been creamed and set aside. Osamu leaned against the doorframe of the hallway and watched Shinsuke beat the egg whites with an electric mixer. Shinsuke was quite aware of his presence — and  _ idleness _ — and looked up at him with a raised brow. 

_ Stop standing there and help me _ , the look had said. This sends Osamu chuckling while he ambled to the kitchen’s cabinets and took out a few cake pans. Turning to Shinsuke, he raised a rectangle pan in one hand and a circular one in the other. 

“What are we gonna be usin’ on your special day?” Osamu asked with a grin. 

The mechanical whirrings came to a stop, and Shinsuke titled his head, thoughtful. “Ain’t the circular one more. . . traditional?” he mused aloud. 

Osamu lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Dunno. Up to ya, really. Since it’s your birthday an’ all.” 

Shinsuke hummed and occupied himself with marrying the various mixtures together in a large, metal bowl. “Then the round one would do jus’ fine,” he responded. 

“Gotcha.” 

Silence fell upon the two of them. Osamu was lining the bottom of the pan with parchment paper while Shinsuke gently folded the batter, careful not to let the air pockets out. His hand was on the side of the bowl, spinning it after a good scrape and fold. Scissors cut through the crisp parchment paper, and Osamu murmured a song he had heard over the radio yesterday afternoon. 

No words needed to be shared. There was solace in their fluid movements — the intimacy in their rhythm. There was no recipe in sight; there was only the memory of Shinsuke’s grandmother reminding them that the kitchen was a place of love,  _ creating  _ love in the meals prepared. Precision, she had said, often undermined that. 

Besides, they weren’t like Atsumu, who only had volleyball for a brain, and would set things on fire with his lack of domesticity. 

With the cake baking in the oven, Shinsuke was rinsing the baking tools, and Osamu had already measured the needed ingredients for the frosting. Since the incident of Aran’s too-sweet birthday cake (Atsumu had a toothache the following week), Shinsuke trusted Osamu’s taste when it came to icing. Or sweets, in general. He just had the right  _ knack _ to it. 

Likewise, with Osamu, pieces in Shinsuke’s life fell into place with a satisfying  _ click! _

“Hey, Shin.” 

Shinsuke wiped the last bowl clean of water droplets, turned around, and extended it to Osamu. He placed it on top of the marbled counter and then focused his gaze back to Shinsuke. The morning sunlight shone on Osamu’s deep pools of obsidian black; it was rather alluring, and Shinsuke couldn’t take his eyes off of them. 

In that moment, there was only Shinsuke and Osamu, in the comforts of their kitchen, in the comforts of  _ each other _ . There was nowhere else Shinsuke would be because he was truly and incandescently  _ happy _ . Nothing more he would ask of the gods because he had it all. 

“Happy birthday,” Osamu whispered to only the two of them — a secret for theirs to keep. 

A secret sealed with Osamu’s lips on his, perfectly molding together. 

_ I am alive and thankful and happy _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> If ever you’re curious to which recipe I used as a reference, you can find it here. 
> 
> Find me on Twitter!


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